You Gotta Have Friends

Hello. I have written a little bit of therapy which I'd like to share with you. It goes thusly:

You Gotta Have Friends

Or:

Three Point Two Seconds of My Daily Internal Monologue

I don’t like me, never have, probably never will.

You might say that’s silly but still,

I think I’m a prick.

Not a nice idea, but I think it’s true because it really seems to stick

. Normally it doesn’t matter because this is great and you’re great and Hey look! I’ve got a beer.

But at other times it’s painfully clear.

A law of existence,

Indefatigable in its persistence,

Something that gives the world its tick –

Matter’s made from stardust and I’m a fucking prick.

You ask:

“Why don’t you go into your own head and figure out what’s up?”

Ah,

Now, there’s the rub.

See, my brain is like a night club:

Slightly sticky, a little manic,

Full of booze and if I spend more than ten minutes there

Liable to make me panic.

You see, I don’t think I’m a real person –

There are other problems but this is the worst one.

I’m a grey, insipid figure in a series of shoddy masks –

Things that I change depending on the task.

There’s this one for being funny,

This for being smart,

This one for being practical

And this for trying to share my heart –

Which never works

Because why

Would you buy

Something which even I,

The seller,

Don’t believe is worth it?

But the real bugger

Is no matter what I mutter

Or shout

I would not be without

My precious masks,

My poorly-painted papier-mâché shields.

For when I’m out in the field

And whichever mask I’m wearing happens to slip,

Even just a bit

I lash out with flailing verbal hits

Because I’m scared

That it’s only the masks I wear

That give me any value.

But there are bad days and good days,

And I’m not in the worst of it right now

And if you’ll kindly let me,

I’d like to tell you how.

I can make me feel like shit,

So it follows I’m a prick,

QED.

But if I am a prick, then why on earth

Do I even listen to me?

The world is full of pricks who do and say things I don’t like,

But I don’t listen to them,

I just turn up the heavy metal and have another pint.

But the main reason I can cope

And life seems mostly fun,

Is that although I don’t like me,

Others do

So at least the job gets done.

One hopes you're well,
Yours,
ADWoodward